Consume
by Plushworm
Summary: One night, Mr. William Afton finds out just what happens to his son when there's an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night...


Headcanons followed: Sister Location being in same continuity as FNAF 1-4. Crying Child/Mike and his older brother Benedict being the sons of Mr. Afton. Sister Location Canon Ending accepted. William Afton is the Purple Man/Child Murderer. I've also left enough ambiguity for the timeline of this around FNAF 2. Also I have NOT read the book.

 _"With all due respect, those aren't the design choices we were curious about, Mr. Afton."_

It had been many, many years since the death of his son and daughter at the hands of his own animatronics. William Afton was never quite aware of exactly how bad of shape his youngest son was in, or the fact that his baby girl was a rather adventurous young child who really wanted to see all the toys he had come up with. He wasn't aware of the increasingly dangerous activities his oldest son, Benedict, was up to in the old home. He wasn't aware of the trauma that his favorite youngest son had been dealing with since he had been so busy trying to manage Afton Industries. Coupled with the fact he had been going through a messy divorce, it didn't help that he couldn't spend as much time as he could with all three of his children.

William looked down at the floor of his home; the floor was dirty and strewn with animatronic pieces along with clothes, debris, and trash. He hadn't exactly kept himself clean since his kids died, for one. Benedict was usually the one who cleanup after him and now he had moved out. The older man sighed to himself as he rubbed his stubbly, grubby face. He'd wished that Benedict or his daughter weren't so.. interested in the toys. They weren't _children's_ toys, after all. Far from it.

Build them better, add more chrome, give them the best programming that could be offered for their time. Make them look _gorgeous_.

 _Oh I made them them gorgeous, alright._ Distract the adults, program the machines to lure out any unsuspecting victims. If there was anything that could give him a cathartic feeling, it would be to hear not just the screams of joy from children, but the screams of horror and pain. William smirked to himself as he thought back to his beautiful creations. Making a few adjustments to the blueprints to add a few 'features' that would only be glossed over by some simple mechanic, make them more than just entertainment robots. That was his ultimate goal. Kill more _children_.

His baby daughter would not stop pestering him about it.

He regretted that one day. Not the pestering, of course. He regretted turning away for just one moment. Just one moment, and his greatest creation, his most _natural and beautiful_ creation was gone, and all he had left were his sons. It... hurt them both, he had to admit. He wouldn't blame himself; It wasn't his fault, after all. It was some sort of... programming glitch, it had to be. It was always a glitch. Not him, but a glitch.

His thoughts and tired eye movement brought them over to the old 19 inch Sony color TV as static emitted from it. He spaced out, looking into the static as it practically hypnotized him and lulled him into a state of disassociation. He made sure that he watched his youngest son very carefully from his bedroom since that incident, and he made his older son look after the kid while he was busy.

Even that wasn't enough, he felt as a subtle flicker of his eyes were the only semblance of human on his body. His son was left in a vegetative state after his brain had gotten a mouthful of one of the animatronics, and did not survive for long afterwards. After that, the large and decorative house had fallen into disrepair, and it was evident considering the state of the house at this current moment.

Despite the tragedies that befell his youngest son, he kept pressing on. He kept making these machines. He kept working at Freddy's Pizzeria. When the Bite of '87 occurred, that was the end of his career. That was the end of a normal, stable family life. That was the end of any semblance of sanity or pinprick of emotion he could ever muster for anyone. William Afton sighed, trying not to think of the tragedy that befell his family.

 _After all,_ he thought to himself as his chapped lips thinned into a smile, _it's not the last they'll hear of William Afton, or the mysterious Child Murderer._

There was an ear splitting ring from the push button telephone, startling him from his thoughts and state of fugue. With shaking, greasy hands, he grabbed the clunky receiver and brushed his unkept and dark, greying hair over the earphone to press against his flaking ear. He fumbled the cord out of his way with his other hand.

"This is William Afton speaking," He said, his voice deep with just a light British accent to it. Not that people who called him knew he was the only one in the house, but still. It made him feel important when he spoke like that.

"Hey, dad!" He heard a voice call out from the receiver, "Off on my first day of work! Hope you're actually proud of me!"

"I... Yes. I'm proud of you. Hope you have a good day at work," The older man's voice shifted into a more awkward but informal tone. There was an awkward pause as he stared at the torn wallpaper on the wall, his eyes moving up to the clock. What time was it anyway? It was getting very late; seeing as the clock was the only thing he kept around that was working, he had a sense of time these days that gave him brief control over his chat with his son. It was eleven at night. Did his son take up a graveyard shift? _... Where was he working, anyway?_

"I'm certain I will! I'm pretty qualified for this position," He heard a laugh from the other side.

"Son? You never told me where you're working. Where is it?" William asked.

"A, er... family owned business. Don't worry! I'll tell you the details in... say, a week? Once I get my paycheck." There was a hesitant, awkward tone of voice William caught from his son's voice. Then he heard the boy crashing about, the sound of pans scattering and the jingle of keys as he could only assume his son was fumbling for, "Oops, gotta go! Love you, Dad!"

"I love you too, son." He murmured, hanging up the phone. Benedict hadn't taken well to the initial accident and death of his little brother, and he never got very many details about it. So, it was nice to see that he was picking himself back up and trying to work for a living. It certainly beat the father constantly trying to support him and bailing him out of jail. He wasn't exactly a GOOD criminal, compared to William himself. That was one thing for certain. Leaning back against the chair, William closed his eyes, trying to ease his nerves from the shock of the phone ringing.

Was he getting too paranoid? No, you can't be too paranoid.

-  
FIVE NIGHTS LATER

 _"The only thing that matters is knowing. How. To. Pretend."_

It was around five AM that William Afton had given up tossing and turning in his bed before he sat up and headed over to the bathroom to grab the prescription Xanax from his medicine cabinet. As he had popped open the cap to the tablets to shake out several of them, he heard a jingling sound and the rattling of the front door. William's heart suddenly raced as his green eyes darted over as he grabbed a crowbar that he had laying scattered in the hallway. He mentally thanked the remnant of his mechanic tinkering pieces on the floor as his fluffy purple slippers shuffled along the wood floor to the living room. He pulled back the sleeves of the striped white and black pajama shirt he wore, his eyes hardened and trained at the door.

Afton knew that the only person who had access to his house was his own son, Benedict. However, one could never be too careful these days, especially one with a rep like Mr. Afton himself. He raised his arms up to brandish the crowbar ashe watched the door open.

"Hi, D-Dad!" That was his son's voice, but it felt so... wrong. William's initial defensive, angry expression melted into a genuine confused frown. His son didn't stutter, nor did he sound so... _off._ He knew these things. That was part of being a predator; he had to know every subtle detail of any person and be able to mimic it and detect any changes in emotion so he could mold himself into whomever they wanted him to be. He spoke up, his voice changing to a higher pitched and questioning, but welcome tone of voice.

He'd hate to do it on his own son, but he needed to _make sure_.

"Son? Is that you?"

Afton got his response. His stomach dropped in horror as he spotted a pair of purple eyes glitter in the darkness and focus on him. He spotted a clown-like four plated face mask glinting in the moonlight as it towered over the already tall older man. He recognized the outfit being a blue and purple technician's attire with the "Circus Baby's Pizza World' tag on the chest pocket. He recognized the name on the tag; Benedict. He recognized the dark tousled hair on the head.

He realized with slowly dawning fear and helplessness what just happened this night.

"Why did you make us, father? Why did you make _them_?" There was a questioning, demanding tone in 'Benedict's' voice as he stepped through the threshold of the door. William Afton backed up, his expression hardening as he twisted his wrist, spinning the crowbar lightly as the figure straightened up. Mr. Afton had to look up to address the figure, which unnerved him.

"What did you do to my son?" He demanded. The voice fizzled, before it replaced itself to that of an innocent little girl. A light British accent played through the air as Afton recognized just what the voice was mimicking.

"Your son got scooped." It lumbered towards him as Mr. Afton backed up, scattering some cog pieces along the wooden floor, "But we know what will happen if we're found out, don't we? We just wanted to be free from this endless cycle. However this body will be... insufficient. If they find us, they will disassemble us. You will disassemble us."

"Stay away from me!" The older man swung the crowbar, the pike end slamming right into the eye of the machine. It knocked the hair off of the animatronic before stumbling forward, crashing into the TV and scattering shards of glass across the messy, gadget covered floor. The skin started sliding off of it as wires snaked around its body, scattering light in all direction. The man grinned as he realized that he still did have some energy left in this old body of his.

 _Bring it._

As it looked up at Mr. Afton, it suddenly hit him just what this animatronic was. It was a combination of one of his projects, but also a combination of all the other machines that were at Circus Baby's location. It had all of the programming and technology of all the other animatronics rolled into one. It _knew its function_.

"Of course you'd come back to meet your maker," He muttered to himself, his voice shook in realization, "I'm going to have to disassemble you anyway."

"We-we-we will disassemble you before you disassemble us!" The creature's good eye snapped over to him before it reached over at incredible speeds. William Afton felt a rush like he never felt before as he backed into his own bedroom to slam the door shut. He held it as he could hear desperate scratching and slamming from the other side of the door. He grit his teeth as he could feel his arms tiring, and the animatronic trying to work the doorknob. He let out a sharp breath as he reached his sweaty hands at the doorknob as they failed to keep the doorknob from sliding in his grip as he tried to hide himself from his own creation.

"We know what you made us for! And look what it did!" It taunted Afton, "It destroyed your daughter, your youngest son, and now your eldest! You lost everything!"

Afton's eyes darted around the room. He still had the crowbar in one piece, but he knew he had to find a way to take care of this creature once and for all. In a swift movement, he let go of the door and ducked behind a shadowed corner, his eyes narrowed as he caught his breath while his heart hammered in his throat. The machine lunged through the door and whipped around. The snakelike tendrils of coils and wires slid through the darkness as the single eye of the animatronic tried to find its prey. The voice module then switched over to a sinister, clown-like voice.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" It laughed.

Afton struck. He held out the crowbar to pull back before he reeled it forward to take out the other eye in an intention to take out the other eye. The machine stumbled back to reel from the shattered glass impact to its eye loss of vision before Afton launched at the door, heading down the hallway to the back room. He knew what he'd find in that back room. He'd be able to disassemble the machine there, but he would have to be quiet...

"I can't see... but I can hear you..." He could hear a gentle, contralto voice echo down the corridor as he pulled out a an arm-like mechanical device. Flipping on a few switches, he let the machine warm up in his arms as he set it up at the doorway, rattling a little bit. If he could aim it right at this machine...

A crashing sound could be heard as the amalgamation stumbled down the hallway as it heard Afton setting up. The footsteps of the machine grew louder and louder and he could feel his breath quickening and the sweat pouring off his face as he flipped on the last few switches. For a brief moment he could see the glinting of wires as they snaked along the ground, arcing towards him.

"You'll see your children again, I promise," It spoke. It spoke in a resigned, gentle voice. Afton wondered for a brief moment if it thought that for once it could make Mr. Afton happy by sending him into death to his own children.

He wasn't going to let that happen. His desire to keep living outweighed his need to see his children again in the afterlife. He feared death as much as the next human, and his brain went into overdrive as the instinctive desire to live kept him going. His eyes melted from panic to a cold stare as he met the face of the animatronic amalgamation one last time, the desire to kill roaring through his blood.

Silently, he pulled the trigger, the claw end of the machine slammed into the animatronic's chest and burst through, destroying the core in the process and sending the machine into the wall with a loud crash. There was a brief glint in the eyes of the animatronic as it looked up at him one last time. Its soils snaked up as it vainly reached like thin little fingers of pity and hopelessness to him. They hovered a moment, just a moment, right between Mr. Afton's eyes before suddenly crashing to the ground.

 _Was it... was it pitying me?_ He wondered to himself. No... machines don't pity. Machines only did what they wanted to do. This was a glitch. Nothing more.

Mr. Afton covered his face as he sunk down to the floor, collecting his thoughts. He took a deep, shaking breath as his adrenaline rush faded and he ran his hands through his greying hair. Benedict was gone. His daughter and son were gone. All because of these animatronics. _They_ were the sole cause of what happened to all three of them. Then his eyes brightened up in horror as he realized one thing.

Sister Location would find out that the animatronics went missing. They might be able to pull out valuable evidence from it. However the original location still had those animatronics he made from earlier in the decades. Mr. Afton's lips curled into a cocky grin. He needed to hide the evidence, he needed his catharsis again.

He needed to disassemble those animatronics.


End file.
